K / 



/ 



3'3S'3 

Pe 




lass Jill 






()( 



k^^ 



PRESDNTliD BY 






THE 



POET COWPER 



AND 



HIS BROTHER 




PHILADELPHIA: 



PUBLfSf^ED BY THE TRACT ASSOCIATION OP FRIEWEt^ 

AXD TO iJE HAD AT THEIR DEPOSITORY, 

I<0. 304 ARCH STREET. 



No. 10. 



( 2 ) 



;.: THE 

POET COWPER AND HIS BROTHER, 



It is the usual characteristic of minds which have been brought 
by the powerful operations of the grace of God, to feel '* the 
terrors of the Lord for sin," and through the extension of thai 
unmerited mercy which is in Christ Jesus, have experienced re- 
pentance and reconciliation, that they are filled with a Christian 
love which longs for the salvation of all, and especially of those 
who are allied to them by the ties of consanguinity, or by strong 
personal attachments. The early life of the poet Cowper was 
passed in a state of carelessness and irreligion. The natural 
proneness to melancholy which his mental constitution early 
indicated, was greatly increased by the resistance he offered to 
those convictions for sin wdth which he was mercifully favoured^ 
and to such a depth of melancholy was he frequently plunged, 
that life itself became a burden, while the anguish and conflict 
of his mind created a tempest of grief and despair, that shook 
reason itself from her throne. It pleased the Lord to work his 
deliverance from this state of thraldom, by the same means 
which first convinced him of sin, the secret though powertli) 
operations of his grace in the soul ; and as if to magnify its a' 
sufficiency, external means were little concerned in it. The da 
clouds of gloom and despair which had long hung over hi 
were dispelled by the bright arising of Christ Jesus, the Sun * 
Righteousness, exalted in his view as the one complete atonemc 
for sin, and the Redeemer and Friend of sinners. The peace a 
joy which he nov/ felt in believing, far transcended all the deligi 
which the world could bestow, and filled his soul with the mc 
delightful emotions of gratitude and thanksgiving to his God ai 
Saviour. Having experimentally felt the preciousness of an mti 
est in Jesus Christ, his heart glowed with desire, that all i 
friends and kindred might become participants in the rich blessin 
and for his brother, whom he tenderly loved, he was peculiar; 
solicitous. 

His account of the last illness of this brother is deeply inter- 
esting, and contains much instruction. It exhibits the Christian 
principles and feelings of William Cowper, evinces th^ fondness 
of his attachment to his brother, the anxious concern he felt for 
the welfare of his immortal soul, and sheds additional lustre on 
his own amiable and excellent character. 
Gift 

W. li. Shoemaker 
J S '06 



(3) 

^. But it is not in this point of view only that the narrative is valu 
able ; it shows the emptiness and vanity of a mere profession of 
Christianity, or a system of religion built up by human wisdom 
and contrivance. His brother was a minister of the established 
church of England, and had received a liberal education. Of 
strict moral habits, and regular in the observance of the externa, 
duties of religion, he imagined himself, and was thought by 
others, to be religious. He had little idea of regeneration, or of 
the sanctifying influence of the Spirit, and was a total stranger to 
those deep and powerful convictions of the sinfulness of sin, and 
the preciousness of pardon through the blood of Christ, which had 
been sealed by dear-bought experience on the mind of his brother. 
Cowper seems to have been aware that his brother's religion was 
too superficial, floating in the head more than pervading the 
heart, and he longed with earnest desire for his thorough and radi- 
cal conversion. He strove therefore to call his attention to the 
spirituality of religion, and to convince him that salvation con- 
sisted in something more than mere formulas of faith, or scholas- 
tic disquisitions on theology. His narrative commences thus : — 
" As soon as it had pleased God, after a long and sharp season 
of conviction, to visit me with the consolations of his grace, it be- 
car?e one of my chief concerns, that my relations might be made 
partakers of the same mercy. In the first letter I wrote to my 
brother, I took occasion to declare what God had done for my soul, 
and am not conscious, that from that period down to his last 
Uness I wilfully neglected an opportunity of engaging him, if it 
-ere possible, in conversation of a spiritual kind. When I left 
Albans, and went to visit him at Cambridge, my heart being 
1 of the subject, I poured it out before him without reserve ; 
d in all my subsequent dealings with him, so far as I was 
ibled, took care to show that I had received not merely a set of 
ions, but a real impression of the truths of the gospel. 
' At first I found him ready enough to talk with me on these 
)jects ; sometimes he would dispute, but always without heat 
animosity, and sometimes would endeavour to reconcile the 
erence of our sentiments, by supposing that at the bottom we 
'e both of a mind, and meant the same thing. 
■'■ He was a man of a most candid and ingenuous spirit ; his 
iper remarkably sweet; and in his behaviour to me, he had 
•/ays manifested an uncommon affection. His outward conduct, 
far as it fell under my notice, or I could learn it by the report 
f others, was perfectly decent and unblamable. 

" There was nothing vicious in any part of his practice ; but 
jeing of a studious, thoughtful turn, he placed his chief deligh. 
in the acquisition of learning, and made such acquisitions in it, 
'hfit he had but few rivals in that of a classical kind. He was 



critically skilled in the Latin, Greek, and Hebrew languages, 
was beginning to make himself master of the Syriac, and per- 
fectly undeiBtood the French and Italian, the latter of which 
he could speak fluently. These attainments, however, and many 
others in the literary way, he lived heartily to despise, not as 
useless when sanctified and employed in the service of God, but 
when sought after for their own sake, and with a view to thf^ 
praise of men. Learned, however, as he was, he was easy and 
cheerful in his conversation, and entirely free from the stiffness 
which is generally contracted by men devoted to such pursuits. 

" Thus we spent about two years, conversing as occasion offered, 
(and we generally visited each other once or twice a week, as 
long as I continued at Huntingdon,) upon the leading truths of 
the gospel By this time, however, he began to be more reserv- 
ed ; he would hear me patiently, but never reply ; and this I 
found upon his own confession afler wards, was the effect of a 
resolution he had taken, in order to avoid disputes, and to secure 
the continuance of that peace which had always subsisted between 
us. When our family removed to Olney, our intercourse became 
less frequent. We exchanged an annual visit, and whenever he 
came amongst us, he observed the same conduct, conforming to 
all our customs, attending family worship with us, and heard the 
preaching, received civilly whatever passed in conversation upon 
the subject, but adhered strictly to the rule he had prescribed 
to himself, never remarking upon or objecting to any thing he 
heard or saw." 

In 1769 John Cowper was taken ill, and was in a short time 
so much reduced, that his life was considered in danger. Cowper 
was sent for to Cambridge, where his brother resided, and he thus 
describes the state of mind in which he found him. 

" In this state of imminent danger, he seemed to have no more 
concern about his spiritual interests, than when in perfect health. 
His couch was strewed with volumes of plays, to which he had 
frequent recourse for amusement. I learned indeed afterwards, 
that even at this time, the thoughts of God and eternity would 
oflen force themselves upon his mind ; but not apprehending his 
life to be in danger, and trusting in the morality of his past con- 
duct, he found it no difiicult matter to thrust them out again." 

From this sickness he recovered, but in the following year he 
was visited with more severe illness, which continued with little 
intermission until his decease. His careless and unconcerned 
state, awakened the most painful anxiety in the mind of his 
brother, whose feelings were too tremblingly alive to the un- 
spcakable value of an immortal soul, and the vast concerns 
of eternity, not to fear lest death should arrest him, before the 



(5) 

great work of redemption was accomplished. The fo' lowing ex- 
tracts will disclose his views. 

"On the 16th February, 1770, I was agam summoned to at- 
tend him, by letters which represented him as so ill, that the phy- 
sician entertained but little hopes of his recovery. I found hini 
afflicted with the asthma and dropsy, supposed to be the efiect ot 
an imposthume in his liver. He was, however, cheerful when 
I first arrived, expressed great joy at seeing me, thought himselt 
much better than be had been, and seemed to flatter hmiself with 
hopes that he shoyld be well again. My situation at this time 
was truly distressful. I learned from the physician, that, in this 
instarxe, as in the last, he was in much greater danger than he 
suspected. He did not seem to lay his illness at all to heart, 
nor could I find by his conversation that he had one serious 
thought. As often as a suitable occasion offered, when we were 
free from company and interruption, I endeavoured to give a 
spiritual turn to the discourse, and the day after my arrival, 
asked his permission to pray with him, to which he readily con 
sented. I renewed my attempts in this way as often as I could 
though without any apparent success ; still he seemed as careless 
and unconcerned as ever; yet I could not but consider his will 
ino-ness in this instance, as a token for good, and observed with 
pleasure, that though at other times he discovered no mark of 
seriousness, yet when I spoke to him of the Lord's dealings with 
myself, he received what I said with aftection, would press my 
hand, and look kindly at me, and seemed to love me the better 

" "On the 21st of the same month, he had a violent fit of the 
asthma, which seized him when he rose, about an hour before 
noon, and lasted all the day. His agony was dreadful. Having 
never seen any person aftlicted in the same way, I could not 
help fearing that he would be suffocated ; nor was the physician 
himself without fears of the same kind. This day the Lord was 
very present with me, and enabled me, as I sat by the poor suf- 
ferer's side, to wrestle for a blessing upon him. I observed to 
him, that though it had pleased God to visit him with great 
aflliction, yet mercy was mingled with the dispensation. I said, 
< You have many friends who love you, and are willing to do all 
they can to serve you ; and so perhaps have others in like cir- 
cumstances ; but it is not the lot of every sick man, how much 
soever he may be beloved, to have a friend that can pray tor 
him." He replied, ' That is true, and I hope God will have mercy 
on me.' His love for me at this time became very remarkable ; 
there was a tenderness in it more than was merely natural; and 
he generally expressed it by calling for blessmgs upon me in the 



( 6 ; 

most affectionate t«rms, and with a look and manner not to be de. 
scribed. 

" At night, when he was quite worn out with the fatigue of 
labouring for breath, and could get no rest, liis asthma still con- 
tmuing, he turned to me and said with a melancholy air, * Brother, 
T seem to be marked out for misery ; you know some people are 
so.' That moment I felt my heart enlarged, and such a per- 
suasion of the love of God towards him was wrought in my soul, 
that I replied with confidence, and as if I had authority given me 
to say it, ' But this is not your case ; you are marked out for 
mercy.' 

" I never heard a murmuring word escape him ; on the con- 
trary, he would oflen say, when his pains were most acute, " I 
only wish it may please God to enable me to suffer without com- 
plaining ; I have no right to complain.' Once he said with a loud 
voice, ' Let thy rod and thy staff support and comfort me ; and 
oh ! that it were with me as in times past, when the candle of the 
Lord shone upon my tabernacle.' One evening, when I had been 
expressing my hope that the Lord would show him mercy, he re- 
plied, ' I hope he will ; I am sure I pretend to nothing.' Many 
times he spoke of himself in terms of the greatest self-abasement, 
which I cannot now particularly remember, — I thought I could 
discern, in these expressions, the glimpses of the approaching day, 
and have no doubt at present but that the Spirit of God was 
gradually preparing him, in a way of true humiliation, for thai 
bright display of gospel grace which he was soon after pleased to 
afford him." 

Cowper appears to have possessed very clear and scriptural 
views of the spirituality of religion. He considered what are 
called the ordinances as mere empty observances, unless accom- 
panied with that inward and spiritual grace of which they are the 
symbols, and all the external duties of religion, however scrupu- 
lously and exactly performed, as a lifeless body, unless the heart 
was animated and sanctified by the sensible influences of the 
spirit of God. Up to the period of the preceding extracts no 
radical change seems to have been effected in the mind of John 
Cowper. It is true his pride had been in some degree softened by 
the effects of disease, and his spirit subdued by suffering, while 
nis affection for his brother was increased by the soothing and 
fond attentions which he constantly paid to him. But the strong 
hold of self-righteousness was not yet broken up — that refuge of 
)ies, the hope of salvation through his own merits, was not sw^pt 
away. There is, however, cause to believe that the work of the 
Spirit was begun in his heart. Secretly and silently it had been 
preparing the way of the Lord, and he was pleased " suddenly to 
come into his temple," to sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and 



( 7 ) 

in a short period to accomplish a change as astonishing to the 
one who was the subject of it, as it was delightful to him who 
had so often and so fervently prayed, that it might be the happy 
experience of his brother. Cowper thus describes it . — 

" On Saturday the 10th of March, about three in the afternoon, 
he suddenly burst into tears, and said with a loud cry, ' Oh, for- 
sake me not !' I went to his bed-side, when he grasped my hand, 
and presently by his eyes and countenance I found that he was 
in prayer. Then turning to me, he said, ' Oh, brother, 1 am full 
of what I could say to you.' The nurse asked him if he would 
have any hartshorn or lavender. He replied, ' None of those 
things will serve my purpose.' I said, ' But I know what would, 
my dear, don't I V He answered, ' You do, brother.' 

Having continued some time silent, he said, ' Behold, I create 
new heavens and a new earth,' — then after a pause, ' Ay, and 
he is able to do it too.' 

" I left him for about an hour, fearing lest he should fatigue 
himself with talking, and because my surprise and joy were so 
great that I could hardly bear them. When I returned, he threw 
his arms about my neck, and leaning his head against mine, he 
said, ' Brother, if I live, you and I shall be more like one another 
than we have been. But, whether I live or not, all is well, and 
will be so ; I know it will ; I have felt that which I never felt be- 
fore, and am sure that God has visited me with this sickness to 
teach me what I was too proud to learn in health. I never had 
•satisfaction till now. The doctrines I had been used to, referred 
mt to myself for the foundation of my hopes, and there I could 
find nothing to rest upon. The sheet-anchor of the soul was 
wanting. I thought you wrong, yet wished to believe as you did. 
I found myself unable to believe, yet always thought that I should 
one day be brought to do so. You suifered more than I have 
done before you believed these truths ; but our sufferings, though 
diflerent in their kind and measure, were directed to the same 
end. I hope he has taught me that, which he teaches none but 
his own. I hope so. These things were foolishness to me once 
but now I have a firm foundation and am satisfied.' 

" In the evening, when I went to bid him good night, he looked 
steadfastly in my face, and with great solemnity in his air and 
manner, taking me by the hand, resumed the discourse in these 
very words. ' As empty and yet full ; as having nothing, and 
yet possessing all things — I see the rock upon which I once split, 
and I see the Rock of my salvation. I have peace in myself, 
and if I live, I hope it will be that I may be made a messenger of 
peace to others. I have learned that in a moment, which I could 
not have learned by reading many books for many years. I have 
often studied these points, and studied them with great attention, 



(8) 

btit was blinded by prejudice ; and unless he who alone is worthy 
to unloose the seals, had opened the book to me, I had been blind- 
ed siill. Now they appear so plain, that though I am convinced 
no comment could ever have made me understand them, 1 wonder 
1 did not see them before. Yet great as my doubts and difficulties 
were, tiiey have only served to pave the way, and being solved, 
th(;y make it plainer. The light I have received, comes late, but 
it is a comfort to me that I have never made the gospel truths a 
subject of ridicule. Though I dissented from the persuasion and 
ways of God's people, I ever thought them respectable, and there- 
fore not proper to be made a jest of. The evil I suffer, is the 
consequence of my descent from the corrupt original stock, and 
of my own personal transgressions ; the good I enjoy, comes to 
me as the overflowing of his bounty ; but the crown of all his 
mercies is this, that he has given me a Saviour, and not only the 
Saviour of mankind, brother, but my Saviour.'" 

There could scarcely be selected from the whole scope of lan- 
guage, terms more strikingly descriptive of the change which had 
been wrought in John Cowper, than this short but comprehensive 
sentence, * As empty, and yet full — as having nothing, and yet 
possessing all things." All his learning, his critical knowledge 
of ancient languages, his elaborate explanations of Scripture, his 
nice distinction between terms, his strict morality, his round of 
religious observances, his preaching and praying, were all felt to 
be entirely worthless, because they wanted that life-giving influ- 
ence which only could render them in any wise beneficial. 
Emptied of all these, stripped of his own righteousness, destitute 
of whatever he had before built his hopes upon, he might well be 
considered as having nothing — nothing of his own — but at the 
same time, having received the gifl; of faith in the all-sufficient 
atonement and mediation of the adorable Redeemer, and expe- 
rienced his blessed spirit to apply them to his own immediate 
wants, he realized that state which the apostle desired might be 
the experience of the Colossians, that " Christ might dwell in their 
hearts richly by faith ;" — and having his glorious presence there, 
he might well be said to " possess all things." 

" It was remarkable, that from the very instant, when he was 
first enlightened, he was also wonderfully strengthened in body, 
so that from the 10th to the 14th of March we all entertained hopes 
of his recovery. He was himself very sanguine in his expecta- 
tions of it, but frequently said, that his desire of recovery extend- 
ed no further than his hope of usefulness ; adding, ' Unless I may 
live to be an instrument of good to others, it were better for me 
to die now.' 

" As his assurance was clear and unshaken, so he was very 
sensible of the goodness of the Lord to him in that respect. On 



(9) 

the day when his eyes were opened, he turned .o ixie, and in a 
low voice said ; * What a mercy it is to a man iii my condition to 
know his acceptance ; I am completely sati^jfied of mine.' On 
another occasion, speaking to the same puipoic, he said : ' This 
bed would be a bed of misery, and it is so — but it is likewise a 
bed of joy and a bed of discipline. Wus I to die this night, 1 
know I should be happy. This assurance, I hope, is quite consis- 
tent with the word of God. It is built upon a sense of my own 
utter insufficiency and the all-sufficienf.y of Christ.' At the same 
time, he said : ' Brother, I have been building my glory upon a 
sandy foundation ; I have laboured night and day to perfect my- 
self in things of no profit ; I have bacrificed my health to these 
pursuits, and am now suffering the consequence of my misspent 
labour. But how contemptible do the writers I once highly valued 
now appear to me ! ' Yea, doubtkso, I count all things loss and 
dung for the excellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus, my 
Lord.' I must now go to a new school. I have many things to 
learn. I succeeded in my former pursuits. I wanted to be highly 
applauded ; and I was so. I was flattered up to the height of my 
wishes ; now, I must learn a now lesson.' " 

With peculiar propriety may we say of many young persons 
at the present period, that they '• labour night and day to perfect 
themselves in things of no profit, even sacrificing health to those 
pursuits," which are of comparatively trivial moment. To say 
nothing of the sinful waste of time and health in dress and com- 
pany, and the slavish devotion to getting money ; how many are 
inordinately pursuing after science and literature, to the almost 
total exclusion of every thing like religious thoughtfulness ! The 
acquisition of useful knowledge, and the cultivation of those talents 
with which a wise and beneficent Creator has endowed us, are 
certainly laudable when kept within proper limits. But if suflfered 
to engross the mind, and divert it from attention to the infinitely 
more important concerns of religion, they then become criminal ; 
and those who fall into this temptation, though they may reap the 
laurels of human applause, and rejoice in having their names re- 
corded as the patrons of literature and the friends of science ; yet 
one day they will have, with the subject of this memoir, to make 
the mournful and humiliating acknowledgment, " I have been 
building my glory on a sandy foundationy 

" On the evening of the 13th, he said, ' What comfort have I in 
this bed, miserable as I seem to be. Brother, I love to look at 
you. I see now who was right, and who was mistaken. But it 
seems wonderful, that such a dispensation should be necessary to 
enforce what seems so very plain. I wish myself at Olney ; you 
have a good river there, better than all the rivers of Damascus. 
What a scene is passing before me ! Ideas upon these subjects 



( 10) 

crowd upon me faster than I can give them utterance. How plain 
do many texts appear, to which, after consulting all the commen- 
tators, I should hardly affix a meaning; and now I have their 
true meaning without any comment at all. There is but one key 
to the New Testament : there is but one interpreter. I cannoi 
describe to you, nor shall ever be able to describe, what I felt in 
the moment when it was given to me. May I make a good use 
of it ! How I shudder when I think of the danger I have just 
escaped. I had made up my mind upon these subjects, and was 
determined to hazard all upon the justness of my own opinions." 

When Christianity is stripped of the trappings with which hu- 
man wisdom and invention have disfigured it, it presents the same 
lovely and simple aspect under every profession. That there is 
but "one key" and "one interpreter" to the Holy Scriptures, is a 
truth which is sealed in the practical experience of every spiritu- 
ally-minded disciple of Jesus. How wonderful and convincing 
are the Spirit's teachings. Under its holy enlightening influences, 
things previously dark and abstruse are made plain and easy, 
passages which learned commentators have in vain puzzled them- 
selves to reconcile or expound, receive their true meaning, and 
the beauty, harmony and sublimity of the Bible, are seen in all 
their intrinsic lustre. Why then should the professors of the 
name of Christ be so slow in receiving a doctrine fraught with 
such rich and precious advantages, and which is engraven with 
clearness and precision on the page of written revelation. 

" Speaking of his illness, he said, he had been followed night 
and day from the very beginning of it with this text : / shall 7iot 
die, but live and declare the works of the Lord. This notice was 
fulfilled to him, though not in such a sense as my desire of his 
recovery prompted me to put upon it. His remarkable amend- 
ment soon appeared to be no more than a present supply of 
strength and spirits, that he might be able to speak of the better 
life which God had given him, which was no sooner done than he 
relapsed as suddenly as he had revived. 

" His experience was rather peace than joy, if a distinction 
may be made between joy and that heart-felt peace which he 
often spoke of in the most comfortable terms ; and which he ex- 
pressed by a heavenly smile upon his countenance under the bit- 
terest bodily distress. His words upon this subject once were 
these : — ' How wonderful is it, that God should look upon man, 
especially that he should look upon me ! Yet he sees me, and takes 
notice of all that I suffer. I see him too ; he is present before 
me, and I hear him say. Come unto me, all ye that are weary 
and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.^ Matt. xi. 28. On the 
iburteenth, in the afternoon, I perceived that the strength and 
spirits which had been afforded him, were suddenly withdrawn, so 



that by the next day his mind became weak, and his speech 
roving and faltering. But still, at intervals, he was enabled to 
speak of divine things with great force and clearness. On the 
evening of the 15th, he said, * There is more joy in heaven ovef 
one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons 
who need no repentance. That text has been sadly misunderstood, 
by me, as well as by others. Where is that just person to be found? 
Alas, what must have become of me if I had died this day seven- 
uight? What should I have had to plead 1 My own righteous- 
ness 1 That would have been of great service to me, to be sure. 
Well, whither next 1 Why, to the mountains to fall upon us, and 
to the hills to cover us. 1 am not duly thankful for the mercy I 
have received. Perhaps I may ascribe some part of my insensi- 
bility to my great weakness of body. I hope at least, that, if I 
was better in health, it would be better with me in these respects 
also. 

" The next day, perceiving that his understanding began to 
suffer by the extreme weakness of his body, he said : ' I have 
been vain of my understanding and of my acquirements in this 
place ; and now God has made me little better than an idiot, as 
much as to say. Now be proud if you can. Well, while I have 
any senses left, my thoughts Avill be poured out in the praise of 
God. I have an interest in Christ, in his blood and sufierings, 
and my sins are forgiven me. Have I not cause to praise him? 
When my understanding fails me quite, as I think it will soon, 
then he will pity my weakness.' " 

His deep conviction of the hatefulness of sin, and the corrup- 
tions and hardness of his own heart, often brought him low, and 
made him almost doubt whether his change could be real, or 
whether the peace and joy which he felt were not the effect of 
delusion. But these moments of doubt and conflict were succeed- 
ed by the renewal of those consolations which are in Christ Jesus, 
and that assurance of pardon and reconciliation which can only 
be realized by the sincere believer in his atonement, and in that 
redemption which is wrought by his spirit. 

" ' I see myself odiously vile and wicked. If I die in this illnesf^, 
I beg you will place no other inscription over me than such as 
may just mention my name and the parish where I was minister ; 
for that I ever had a being, and what sort of a being I had, cannot 
be too soon forgot. I was just beginning to be a deist, and had 
long desired to be so ; and I will own to you what I never con- 
fessed before, that my function and the duties of it were a weari- 
ness to me which I could not bear. Yet, wretched creature as I 
was, I was esteemed religious, though I lived without God in the 
world.' About this time I reminded him of the account of Jane- 
way's, which he once read at my desire. He said he had laughed at 



( 1^2) 

Jt in his own mind, and accounted it mere madness and folly 
* Yet base as I am,' said he, ' I have no doubt now but God has 
accepted me also, and forgiven me all my sins.' 

" In a time of severe and continual pain, he smiled in my face, 
and said, ' Brother, I am as happy as a king.' The day before 
he died, when I asked him what sort of a night he had had, he 
replied, * A sad night, not a wink of sleep.' I said, ' Perhaps, 
though, your mind has been composed, and you have been enabled 
to pray.' * Yes,' said he, ' I have endeavoured to spend the 
hours in the thoughts of God and prayer; I have been much 
comforted, and all the comfort I got came to me in this way.' 

" The next morning I was called up to be witness of his last 
moments. The Lord, in whose sight the death of his saints is 
precious, cut short his sufferings, and gave him a speedy and 
peaceful departure. 

" He died at seven in the morning, on the 20th of Marcb» 
1770." 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




